The Princess Tutu Bride
by OtherworldlyArtist
Summary: When Drosselmeyer failed to bring tragedy down on his characters, he struck out to find a new story to manipulate them in. He discovered the perfect stage within a story entitled The Princess Bride. Can the characters escape his hand a second time?
1. Prologue

The Princess Tutu Bride

**Author's Note:**** This story is not going to be an exact copy of The Princess Bride with the characters switched out. Things will begin to branch off later on. I do not own Princess Tutu or The Princess Bride. I hope you enjoy this story as it is my first fanfiction ever.**

**Prologue**

Drosselmeyer scoured his library, searching for the perfect story. His steps became more and more agitated from his fruitless results, which showed from the mountains of discarded books left behind him. His previous story's not-so-tragic ending never failed to grate on his nerves. True, he _had_ managed to destroy his little duck's happy ending and managed to create havoc on his great grandson(okay, maybe more greats, but who's counting?), but it wasn't enough. He wanted them all to live in superb tragedy. The prince and princess had escaped because of his more responsible relations and Drosselmeyer wanted him to pay dearly for it. The fact that that mere duck and the failed knight were content even as they were, finalized his need for revenge.

The perfect stage for a true tragedy was waiting somewhere among the stories and Drosselmeyer intended to find it and twist it until he could squeeze every drop of ultimate suffering out of it.

"I'm bored, zura!"

Drosselmeyer was startled by the doll's call and fell off the ladder he had been on into a pile of books. Drosselmeyer burst forth from the pile, unleashing an eruption of novels with him.

"Uzura! I've no time for-" he managed to flip his cape off of him and batted the drooping feathers from his hat out of his eyes. "Oof! I've no time for your silly games. There's work to be done." Drosselmeyer shivered, hating that his own characters had reduced his fun to something as hideous as work.

The doll's face went sour before she furiously began beating on her drum. "You said we'd have fun! You said you were going to read me a story, zura!"

He clapped his hands over his ears, but it was too late, for his head was already pounding.

"And we will. But, I simply must find the perfect story. After all, it's no fun with a bad story." He reasoned with a dark smile, before clapping his hands together and turning to continue his search.

"Ooohhh!" Uzura realized, her eyes going wide. She gave a nod and raced off, weaving through the forgotten stacks of books.

_Thank goodness._ Drosselmeyer thought with relief. Sometimes he wondered why he had ever brought her along with him. But, a useless doll was better than no doll at all.

"Here ya go, zura!"

Or, perhaps not.

He turned to face her, forming a plan to entertain her for the next few days, when he noticed the book she was thrusting at him. His curiosity getting the better of him, he raised an eyebrow at her and took the book.

_The Princess Bride. Hmm . . ._ The name certainly struck fond memories for him what with its similar name to one of his own characters. He glanced at the summary for the fairy tale which boasted fencing, fighting, chases, escapes, giants, revenge, torture, true love and miracles. A wide grin spread across his face.

"Good work, Uzura."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Are you going to start the story now, zura?"

"Yes, yes." Drosselmeyer flipped his free hand at her, distractedly, as his gaze pursued The Princess Bride's pages. He needed to have a basic idea of the characters before he could jump in. He could play around as he went and match things up later, but his four pains in his neck needed to be placed just so. "Go get tucked in so we can begin."

"Okey dokey, zura!" she rushed over to her little wooden box bed and carefully set her precious drum on the tall, antique desk beside it. She bounced in her bed, the covers flopping over her as she anxiously awaited the upcoming story.

Drosselmeyer flipped a few pages, heedless of Uzura's excited run.

_There only seems to be one leading lady. That is a problem. The most beautiful girl in existence, eh? The princess from my story suits that role, remarkably. And this Westley character's will to do anything for Buttercup matches the prince very well. But, where's the fun in that?_ He snapped the book closed.

_I can't have those two pairing up again. I know where that leads. Instead, I've a much better plan. I shall cast our mere duck as the most beautiful girl in existence. The irony will be such a treat! But, I can't allow the prince to be Westley now, for Princess Tutu would be able to confess her love without worry and that would lead to a happy ending for them. No, I can do much better than that. I will take a note from the raven and cast our good, kind-hearted and true prince as the villain. It's just marvelous! Tutu will never be able to give her love to him as she would wish to from the previous story due to the new story's rules taking over. And now that I think on it, the worthless knight from my tale who was meant to die is perfect to play Westley for he is tragically murdered by pirates not too far into the story. How delightful! I knew this tale would be to my liking!_

"You're just standing there, laughing at the book, zura!" Uzura grumbled.

He narrowed his eyes at the insolent doll as he pulled his rolling, wood and leather chair closer to her and the candle light. The worn, red leather squeaked as he leaned closer.

"Ahiru was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin."

"Duck's in this story, too, zura?"

"Of course she is." He laughed at what was in store for those fools that thought they could escape his spell. If his story could no longer reach them, he could always use another until he reached the ending he wanted.

"I'm glad, zura." she whispered, a small tear glistening in her eye.

_Dolls and their emotions._ Drosselmeyer mentally rolled his eyes.

And so, the story began . . .

* * *

"QUACK!" came the yelp as a red-haired girl went sailing off her horse into a haystack in the stables. Ahiru flailed, trying to escape, and sent hay flying everywhere. The girl, who was strangely the most duck-like person in all the land, had always had the silly habit of quacking when things went bad. No one knew why, but it was how she was.

"Idiot!"

Ahiru snapped her head around at the insult, puckering her face in distaste as the dark haired farm boy stalked towards her. Sure, she'd caused more work for him from the mess she'd made, but the meanie could just do it. He was always mean to her, anyway. She quickly flew out of the hay and put her hands up in defense when she noticed the pitchfork he was bringing with him.

"Don't get hasty, Fakir! It's not my fault! That horse hates me!" she wailed, running from him. "I'll clean the mess myself! Promise!" she hid behind a post.

He let out a frustrated sigh, gave her a look and went back to what he'd been doing before. Ahiru let out a relived breath, slumping against the pole. She'd never understand why Fakir was such a meanie head.

Every day held similar occurrences for the pair. And always held the same result.

Ahiru bobbed her head from side to side, merrily, as she made her way past Fakir to the well for some water. Unbeknownst to her, Fakir watched her progress, a small smile curving along his face at her happy tune. It was quickly replaced by annoyance when he saw her struggling to carry the two heavy buckets back with her. The clumsy birdbrain tripped over her skirts and sent the buckets flying.

One bucket nailed him in the head, and the water that covered him from it did nothing to cool his temper. Ahiru, practically drowning in her skirts, squeaked as he approached.

"Idiot." He glowered, grabbing her arm and pushing her towards the house. She _squish squashed,_ sulking at her failure as she went to get new clothes. She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the door and was amazed to see Fakir following a little ways behind with fresh buckets of water. Her heart gave a squeeze before she disappeared inside.

Another new day arrived, but today was different. Ahiru had never seen Fakir act the way he had before. Or, maybe, she just hadn't ever noticed. Either way, she wanted to do something nice for him. Underneath that prickly, hard shell was a gooey marshmallow just waiting to melt between the cracks!

Ahiru pumped her fist, knowing the plan couldn't fail . . . then nodded to herself for a little extra confidence just in case the plan actually failed.

She waved her arms back and forth with a big smile as she marched towards Fakir, who was chopping wood.

He saw her, but didn't pause as he continued his chores. She stopped in front of him, watching him split the logs for a second. She'd never realized how strong Fakir was. He did his work with ease. Ahiru was momentarily entranced by his tan skin, sweat sparkling off him in the sunlight. She mentally shook her head, knowing she needed to say something instead of standing there like an idiot.

"So, you chopping wood?" she asked without thinking.

He raised a brow at her. His expression said something along the line of 'no, I'm doing ballet with a magical ballerina princess, what do you think?'

_Eeee! He thinks I'm a spaz! Of course, he's chopping wood! It's getting colder!_ she made a horrified inner face.

"So, you like chopping wood, huh?" she tilted her head to the side.

Fakir stopped trying to decipher her ramblings and just let her go while he finished his job.

_ACK! What am I saying? It's just a chore. It's not like he'd like doing it. Now, I sound like a snob who's making fun of him working for my father!_

The pile—and her panic—grew.

"How 'bout I help you with this? There's a lot to do! I could carry the wood and—"

Ahiru quacked in pain. She had been jumping around all over the place and not paying attention, so she'd jabbed her hand with a sharp piece of bark. Fakir rushed over at the sound of her cry.

"Idiot!" he snarled, grabbing her.

"I'm sorry, Fakir! I should have looked out! Don't worry about me! It's just a little cut!" she jerked away from him, hating that she was causing trouble when she'd wanted to help.

He simply took her hand back, refusing to let her go, as he inspected the cut. Tears welled in her eyes when he pressed her skin together to remove the splinter. Satisfied that she would indeed be okay, Fakir leaned down and pressed his lips to the cut to make the pain go away. He straightened to be on his way, but stiffened at her wide-eyed expression. A deep blush spread over his face when he realized what he'd done.

"Idiot." he whispered as he turned away to hide the blush and gently shoved her towards the house.

Her feet moved on their own as she trailed away in a daze, not taking her eyes off him. Idiot was all he ever said to her. And that day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'idiot', what he meant was 'I love you.'

And even more amazing was the day she discovered that she truly loved him back.

Ahiru's heart was going to beat out of her chest. She could hardly breathe when Fakir was around. Ever since the day he had kissed her hand.

She sloshed water everywhere, washing the dishes in a panic when Fakir walked through the room. It was getting close to sun down and he was getting his things to go home. Ahiru didn't want him to go. Every time they parted, it felt like he was taking a piece of her with him. She wasn't whole when he was gone. And when he was there it felt like she was going to explode. She didn't know what to do.

As he walked out the door, all she knew was that she couldn't stand it if he left, so she called out. "Fakir!"

He looked back over his shoulder at her, an unspoken question blazing in his eyes.

Ahiru looked all around her, not knowing the answer he was looking for and certainly not knowing how to explain why she'd called out to him.

"U-uum . . ." she stammered. "Would you hand me that pitcher?"

He glanced at the pitcher that was hanging on the stand a few inches away from her. She knew full well that she could get it easily, but it had been the first thing she'd seen to use as an excuse.

"I-I need to wash it." She said, lamely.

Fakir shook his head as he walked back inside. Ahiru was shocked by his smile and the twinkling laughter in his eyes as he reached above her head to hand her the pitcher.

"Idiot." he let out a small chuckle.

Ahiru smiled up at him, tears welling in her eyes, and hugged him tightly. He gathered her in his arms, happier than words could say. They were together. That was all that mattered.

Still, Fakir did need to return home to his father. It was time to say goodnight. They walked outside, hand in hand. And as the sun set on that glorious, perfect day, Fakir pulled Ahiru close and . . .

* * *

"Are they going to be all lovey dovey, zura?" Uzura piped up.

Drosselmeyer skipped ahead, getting very sick of all the romance and desperately wanting to find the tragedy.

"Were they lovey dovey, zura?" the doll crossed her arms.

Drosselmeyer just smiled.

"Tell me, zura!"

"You're too young to know." he laughed at the doll's sour face before continuing from his new spot. "Fakir had no money for marriage, so he packed up his few belongings and went out to make his fortune. It was a very emotional time for Ahiru . . ."

* * *

Ahiru wailed and flapped her arms around in her duck-like manner as she tried to convince Fakir to stay. "Don't go! Don't go! Don't go!"

When he just walked past her with his bag, she jumped him.

"Moron, let go of my leg." Fakir grunted, dragging her body behind him.

"Don't go! We don't have to get married!"

"Yes we do." He said, dryly, a small blush lighting his cheeks.

Her eyes widened, her own blush forming. "I didn't mean it like that! I mean, of course we have to get married to be together, but . . . uh . . ." she hated it when her brain picked the worst times to take a vacation. "J-just, _please_ don't leave. I-I'm afraid I won't see you again." She dropped her head down.

His eyes softened. Fakir crouched down beside her and hugged her close. "I'll come back, Ahiru. I promise. I will come back and stay by your side forever."

Ahiru sniffed into his shirt. "How can you be sure?"

Fakir drew back to gaze into her eyes. He wiped her tears and brushed her hair out of her face. "This is true love."

Ahiru's eyes widened. _True love . . ._ _He really does love me. Me, the clumsiest girl in all the land. I'm not the smartest, the bravest or the prettiest. And all I do is mess up, but he still loves me for me. _

"I love you, Fakir!" she shouted, making him blush, before tackle hugging him, which caught him by surprise and made him fall backwards.

She snuggled to him. _I'm weak . . . but, somehow, Fakir always makes me stronger . . ._

They parted ways then. Ahiru waved goodbye at him, very animatedly.

"Don't forget your promise!" she shouted to him from the top of the hill.

"I won't!" he laughed, waving back at her before trekking off into the unknown.

"_**Fakir didn't reach his destination. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never left captives alive. When Ahiru got the news that Fakir was murdered, she went into her room and shut the door. And for days she neither slept nor ate."**_

"I will never love again . . ." Ahiru whispered, brokenly.

* * *

"I don't like this story, zura." Uzura mumbled, a tear trailing down her cheek.

_I love this story!_ Drosselmeyer cackled in his head, eagerly turning the page for the next chapter.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I do realize that Uzura said Duck instead of Ahiru. I was torn as to which name to use for this story and settled on Ahiru, but I like Uzura calling her Duck because I feel that it fits her in being blunt and in cute, childlikeness. I hope this didn't bother you or cause any sort of confusion. And, I do hope you like my story thus far and would like me to continue. I'd love any sort of feedback. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Drosselmeyer continued reading the story even though Uzura held her hands over her ears and kept crying about his grandson being dead. "Five years later, the main square of Florin city was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the great prince Mytho's bride to be . . ."

* * *

The trumpets sounded throughout the square, announcing the arrival of the prince. Mytho waved a hand to his subjects to both greet and silence them.

"My people, a month from now, our country will have its 500th anniversary. On that sun down, I will marry a lady who was once a commoner like yourselves. But, perhaps you will not find her common, now. Would like to meet her?" As expected, the crowd roared.

Mytho flashed a mocking half smile. "My people, the princess . . . " he raised a hand towards the elegant archway that hid his bride to be. "Tutu."

Ahiru had listened to the prince's speech. She had heard him announce her. And she had heard the horns that were supposed to signal her entrance. The problem was that her knees wouldn't stop shaking and something seemed to have gotten stuck in her throat, making even ideas of breathing impossible.

_Why did the prince choose me for his bride? Why didn't he go off and find the most beautiful girl in the land instead of the most ducklike? I told him that I'm in love with someone else, but he still didn't care. I can't refuse him because it's the law. I-I wish Fakir were here._

At the thought of Fakir, the water works began. That was how the lady's maids found her when they came to see what the holdup was.

"What's her deal?" the girl with purple hair and tan skin whispered.

The tall girl with the short, poofy brown hair just shrugged.

"Wah! Fakir!" Ahiru cried, hugging the stone pillar.

"Did she just curse?" Pique gave the odd girl a look. "Who says things like that when they're going to be married to a prince?"

"I don't know, but we'd better get her out there. The crowd's growing restless. And I'm sure Prince Mytho is none too happy, as well." Hermia cast a worried glance towards the doorway.

"Right!" Pique gave Hermia a thumbs up before they both grabbed Ahiru and threw her out the door.

"AAAAHHHHH!" Ahiru screamed, arms wind milling as she flew towards the gaping crowd and tumbled down the stairs to rest at their feet.

_Well, no one really could find her common. _Mytho thought when his bride finally made her entrance.

"Look at the pretty, flying duckies." Ahiru garbled out, her eyes spinning in all different directions.

Mytho rested his forehead in his hand at the spectacle.

"Sire, she's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" the blond by his side squealed. "But why would you choose someone as pathetic as that little duck-like creature?" she went on in her merry voice.

Mytho smiled darkly from beneath his bangs. "You'll see soon enough, Lillie. She may not be the perfect princess, but she does have a certain sway. They'll adore her in no time."

"Oh, look! She's about to faint from having everyone stare at her! How cute!" she leaned dangerously over the ledge, her right leg kicking up behind her in glee. "She's running away! I'll go comfort her!"

With that, the blonde skipped away.

* * *

Ahiru couldn't stand being in the castle for one more day. The servants laughed at her, Lillie had pushed her down a flight of stairs then declared she was going to help her heal, and Mytho . . . Knowing she would have to marry him only reminded her of all she had lost and what she could never have. True, Mytho was kind to her and treated her like a princess, but she still felt bad that she couldn't return his feelings.

It was because of all these reasons that she found herself in her current situation. You see, she had taken one thing with her when she'd accepted becoming Prince Mytho's betrothed. That was Horsey-the horse that hated her. She seemed to be holding a long time grudge for the name Ahiru had given her. She would have left her behind with her family, but she did love the horse. Fakir had loved Horsey dearly. And the little traitor horse seemed to like him much better than her, too. She'd had many fond memories with Horsey even if she had developed a fear of riding horses thanks to her.

Unfortunately, today's memories wouldn't be quite as fond as the others. Earlier she had hopped on Horsey and galloped like a mad woman away from the craziness of the Florin castle. She'd spent about thirty seconds feeling like things between her and Horsey might work out when Horsey started bucking around while running, making Ahiru nearly bounce off with every stride. Then they'd made it to the woods.

Oh, the woods . . .

They had missed the path for some odd reason(she'd wondered why Horsey had been snickering) and had careened into the wild brush. Ahiru had been scratched by an endless amount of grabby saplings before being taken out by the low hanging tree branch. But, her great luck prevailed, for she had not fallen off the horse to the ground where she would have been somewhat safer with a broken neck. Oh no, not her. She'd gotten her leg caught in the saddle and had been dragged through the bushes for the rest of her trip.

She'd been more than happy to be stolen by her kidnappers than spend five more seconds on that, that _animal._

Oh yeah, did she mention she'd been kidnapped? It was turning out to not be Ahiru's day.

* * *

"Boss, what are we doing?" the giant blond man questioned the shorter man with deep violet hair and glasses.

Autor pushed his glasses back up in annoyance. "We are waiting for the princess to ride by so we can capture her."

"Why are we stealing away a lovely mademoiselle?" the trio's flamboyant counterpart dashed into the conversation. "What beasts are we should we capture a delicate butterfly only to crush its wings?!"

The look Autor threw at Femio seemed to scream 'no one ever knows what you're talking about.' "We are doing this to start a war between Florin and Guilder. It's a prestigious process that must be handled with the upmost care."

At that precise moment, a horse galloped past at lightning speed dragging a body behind it. The red haired girl's arms waved like a banner and her eyes lit up when she saw them.

"HHHEEELLLLPPPP MMMMEEEEEEE!" was all they heard as the horse and 'rider' were gone in the blink of an eye.

All three men tilted their heads and watched the princess disappear into the distance.

"Was that her?" Lysander asked.

"If it was, then there won't be much left to capture." Autor mumbled.

Femio popped up in front of them from out of nowhere, startling the others. He placed a hand over his heart and thrust the other forward with flourish as a spotlight illuminated his form.

"A damsel in distress? A poor dove in danger?! A beautiful, lovely lady waiting for her prince to rescue her?! I WILL SAVE YOU, MADEMOISELLE!"

With that he ran off to save her. Who knows whether she was safer with the horse or with him?

* * *

**Author's Note:**Thank you so much to all of you who read my story and gave me such nice support! I'm so glad you are enjoying it! I apologize for the short chapter. I do try to keep them bulked up. I also apologize for the long wait. I was busy with school. I am already on the way with the next chapter and I have notes and plans in the work for future chapters. I'm having a lot of fun particularly with Femio's character. He is a joy to write and play with. I'm not sure how the fight between him and Fakir will go, but I do know that it will most certainly be interesting!

Just fear not, for I will keep with this story. I love it dearly. Thank you once again for reading!


End file.
